Second Chance
by Catastrophe90
Summary: After being shot by Shepherd, Ghost finds himself on Tellius, where he meets the Greil Mercenaries. Rated T since there's blood and since Ghost swears sometimes, although I can bump it to M if needed.
1. Prologue: Loose Ends

**Author's Note: **I own Fire Emblem, Call of Duty, all characters within these two franchises, the newest iPhone, a sleek new Mercedes, Nintendo, Activision, a private jet, a luxurious resort on a tropical island and enough money to erase the national debt of the United States of America. I am handsome, intelligent, charming, a playboy millionaire, holder of two Olympic records in swimming and javelin-throwing, an influential member of the Free-Masons (who incidentally, control the world), the secret son of Theodore Roosevelt and Wonder Woman and, most importantly, a compulsive liar.

(I do not own Fire Emblem or Call of Duty or any of that stuff)

_Prologue: Loose Ends_

**Day 6**

**Caucasus Mountains**

**Simon "Ghost" Riley**

"Roach, hang in there!"

As the back hatch of the landing MH-53 Pave Low helicopter slowly opened, Lieutenant General Shepherd watched as the two battered men slowly made their way to him, the one gravely wounded supported by the other. As to be expected, the new guy, George Sanderson, survived again. Every single mission, he always found a way to get injured, whether by his curious inability to jump further than arms length or by his bad habit of get crushed by various heavy inanimate objects. He wasn't called "Roach" for nothing, for he was as indestructible as his namesake. He always found a way to live on.

The other surviving member of the raiding mission was the most enigmatic member of Task Force 141. Constantly hiding his face behind a ski mask depicting a grinning skull motif and dark, impenetrable sunglasses, Simon "Ghost" Riley's past before joining the Task Force remains a mystery. A rather quiet individual, Shepherd knew as much about him after three years than the day he first arrived at the military barracks. Nevertheless, with his vast knowledge of electronic warfare and his deadly precise marksman skills, Lieutenant Riley has always proven himself to be an important asset on the battlefield. It's a shame both he and Roach had to die today.

"Come on, get up! Get up! Get up! We're almost there!"

Task Force 141 was composed of the world's finest soldiers. Handpicked personally by General Shepherd himself and secretly backed up by the governments of the sixteen most wealthy countries of the western world, Task Force 141 could deploy anywhere in the world in a matter of hours to defend the interests of NATO. Expectations were high. "Two men took down an entire base. I ask much more from you now" General Shepherd once said to a new recruit. It was the truth. Each individual soldier had to be an army by himself.

Shepherd took one good, final look at the two British special operatives. Their clothing was smeared with mud and blood, ripped by shrapnel and stray bullets. Their body armour was covered in bullet holes, each puncture representing the impact of a potentially fatal rifle round, stopped only by a wall layered ceramic plates. He saw their sagged shoulders, their slight limping where their non-protected legs were grazed by bullets, and the weary look in their eyes. Twelve soldiers left for Makarov's storehouse, intent on retrieving critical information destined to turn the tide in the ongoing war between the United States of America and the Russian Federation. Only two are left, now that Shepherds mercenaries had taken care of the remaining snipers on the nearby hill. Looks like Makarov's men were good for something after all.

"Do you have the DSM?" The data storage module contained incriminating evidence on Vladimir Makarov, but also of his own involvement in the events that lead to a full-scale Russian invasion of the United States. Ever since the loss of a whole Marine Recon Force in the Middle East five years ago, America's fighting spirit had wavered and waned, a weakness that the United States could not afford in the tumultuous 21st century. A spark was needed to re-ignite the fire. Shepherd had provided this spark, assisting Vladimir Makarov, a Russian extremist, in framing the United States for a bloody massacre in a Russian airport. The Russian response was swift and brutal; one thousand American citizens killed for every dead Russian. Many have died, but much more would have perished had he done nothing, Shepherd was sure of it. Once again, America was united against a common foe. It was all that mattered.

"We got it, sir!" Came the reply. From Ghost, obviously. Roach was in no shape to talk.

"Good. That's one less loose end." Shepherd felt a slight twinge of regret cross his mind as he drew his pistol from its holster. Roach and Ghost were both excellent soldiers; dogged, disciplined and determined, as were all of Task Force 141. They always succeeded, no matter the odds, no matter the opposition, no matter the price. Shepherd respected that. Yet, in order for his plan to be successful, Task Force 141 had to be annihilated down to the last man. They knew too much. The stakes were too high. If only they had been born in America, they might be using their talents to repel the Russian invasion right now. As it is, they were simply born at the wrong place. Aiming at the nearly unconscious Roach, Shepherd pulled the trigger.

"NO!" The shot hit Roach in the abdomen, just under the stomach. Not a fatal wound on its own, but Roach had already lost too much blood to hope for survival. Quickly, before Ghost could raise his assault rifle, Shepherd shifted his aim, turning towards Ghost with a gesture honed by years of military practice, and fired again.

The bullet hit him in the middle of the forehead, precisely between the eyes. The British Lieutenant's body recoiled backwards under the force of the impact, the bullet emerging from the rear of the head in a burst of crimson, his eyes rolling towards the back of the head. Shepherd watched with a dispassionate stare as life left Ghost's body and waited for the soft "thud" of the body hitting the ground.

Said "thud" never came. The tumbling body vanished into thin air under Shepherd's bewildered stare.


	2. Chapter 1: We play golf

**Author's Note: **I do not own neither Fire Emblem and Call of Duty (must I really type this in every chapter?)

_Chapter One: "We Play Golf."_

**Day 7**

**?**

**Simon "Ghost" Riley**

"Wake up!"

Following these kind words was a painful blow on the side of the head.

"Come on, sleeping princess!"

And another hit. Ok, I got it. I'm awake. Christ, this place smells awful.

"...Urgghhh…" is the only sound I can make with my throbbing headache and painful cheek. A good tip for interrogators: never hit your victims repeatedly in the jaw. They need that part intact to answer your questions.

"That's better. You've got guts sneaking nearby our hideout, you rat. Who hired you?"

Hideout? Are these Makarov's men? Wait…

Shepherd! The DSM! Roach! Shit! I need to get up and…

"Don't try anything, you're all tied up. You won't be going anywhere anytime soon." He's right, my limbs have been attached, and pretty well too. Tight enough so that I can't wiggle out of my bounds, but with enough loose so that blood circulation isn't affected too much.

"I'll ask again, what were you doing in the middle of that field?" Here he goes again. I can't seem to identify his accent; it's not Russian, so that rules out Makarov's men, neither is it the American one Shepherd's mercenaries had, so who are they?

"Your mother." He left himself wide open for that one. These guys may be good at tying people up, but they're pretty horrible at interrogation. I was rewarded for my wit with a third punch on the jaw. Do they really want me to talk or are they content with using me as an improvised punching bag?

"You think you're smart, eh? Let's see how smart you are after I slice your leg off!" Wait, what? Slice off my leg? What the hell is wrong with you people?

I open my eyes and am greeted by the sight of a massive, burly man lifting up a giant axe. He is most certainly the ugliest human being that I have ever set my eyes upon, and I'm guessing from his oily hair and the stained rags that he uses as clothes that he isn't too keen on personal hygiene either. A quick look around reveals a dozen other men dressed in similar attire with swords and battleaxes (people still use those?). No wonder this place smells like somebody eviscerated a skunk and then left it to rot for a few weeks in sunlight.

"Woah, woah, let's now get too far of ourselves now. How about we talk this one through?" I like my legs the way they are right now: attached to my body.

Fortunately for me, before my smelly interrogator could reply, he and the rest of the group were called outside by what I presume was a lookout. Sounds of a battle soon erupted outside.

"Are… Are you ok, mister?" Turning around, I realize that I am not the only prisoner in the room. Two young children were bound in a similar fashion to mine. The first was a browned-haired girl wearing a yellow dress and a blue scarf. She was the one who was talking to me and looking at me with look of compassion in her kind, blue eyes. The other prisoner was a green-haired boy with a blue shirt and khaki shorts. He seemed younger than the girl, and was currently scared to death. Both children instinctively recoil at the sight of my face. Oh right, children don't react well to skull-themed balaclavas.

"Yep, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Now I needed to find a way to untie myself. I can see my M1911 pistol, my survival knife and the rest of my equipment on a table a few meters from my current position, but, due to my bounds, I can do little more than wiggle around like some kind of spastic worm. Even if I did make my way to the table, I have no way to actually reach my stuff. Damn it.

"Oh, good. My name is Mist and this is Rolf." Good to put some names on your faces. Meanwhile, Rolf was silently sobbing.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ghost. And Rolf, chin up. Boys don't cry. We'll find a way out of this." Hopefully the people fighting our captors outside are winning.

"But… I'm so scared… Aren't you two even a bit scared?"

"Of course I am, but I'm sure we'll be fine! My brother will definitely come rescue us."

"I've been through worse, kiddo. And what was that about a brother, Mist?"

"Rolf and I are part of a mercenary company, and so is my brother. I'm sure that they are the ones fighting those bandits right now!"

"Mm...yeah. You're right! And I'm sure that my brothers will be right there with him." At least Rolf isn't crying anymore.

"I'm sure they will, too! So no more crying! Got it?" I couldn't help but to smile at these words. Children can be so naïve and optimistic at times.

"Since we'll be stuck here for quite a while, how about a little story while we wait?" Sadly, there's not much I can do other than keeping the children's spirits high. Besides, I always had a soft spot for kids.

"Sure, I love stories!" Oh Rolf, how did you get involved in this mess?

"I bet that you're both wondering why I wear these bones on my face. It's a tribute to an old friend of mine. He's dead now, but man if he wasn't the baddest soldier on the planet. His name was Riley, Simon Riley…"

"But Riley wasn't going to go down without giving them one hell of a fight…"

"You lot, come with me!"

Oh, would you look at that, the living pile of garbage is back. A shame he didn't get killed in the outgoing battle. Speaking of which, the sounds of battle are getting closer and closer. It seems like our captors are losing. Sadly, I don't have much time to think about the consequences of this fact, as after our legs are unbound, Mist, Rolf and I are unceremoniously shoved outside the wooden house we were held prisoner in. Outside stood five individuals among the bodies of our jailors. In front were a young man with blue hair, a matching shirt, white pants, a red cape and a bloodied sword, along with a ginger knight wearing a white set of armour over a red shirt and brown pants and mounting a brown warhorse. Behind them was a thin man in a white hooded robe clutching what seemed to be a staff and two green-heads; the smaller, goofy-looking one had a massive axe resting on his shoulder while the taller one was another mounded soldier clad in green and grasping a long, wooden lance between his fingers (get your minds out of the gutter, this is serious business). Looks like the cavalry's here.

"Please, let us go! I said let us go!" Hah, like that will ever work, Mist.

"Mist!" The blue-haired guy looks really pissed. He's probably the brother Mist was talking about.

"Brother! Everyone! You came!" Yup, I was right.

"Oh...I'm scared." Rolf, grow a spine.

"Rolf!" This time it came from the green knight. Maybe a relative again?

"Brother? Help me!" Bullseye.

"Rolf! I'm here, too!" Of course the third green-haired individual is related to the two other green-haired individuals. If only everything in life was so easy.

Now, I'm no expert when it comes to biology (I studied history), but I am fairly sure that the amount of naturally green-haired people on Earth is more or less close to the number of people who can really appreciate football in the United States (it's called "football", not "soccer" you twits), which is around zero. According to what little memories I have retained from my high school biology classes (when I wasn't drunk), green pigmentation in nature usually comes from chloroplasts, who are the things plants use to avoid eating stuff (like I said, I'm no expert when it comes to biology). I wonder if these green-heads can feed on the sun's rays too… And where does blue hair fit in all this?

"You! Harm either of them, and I'll see you dead!" Mist's brother again. He seems to be the one currently in charge.

"Shut up! Shut your stinkin' trap! If you want these three alive, you'll throw your weapons down. If you don't, I'll start with the girl..." If only our captor would move in front of me…

"Wait! I'm putting down my weapons. See?" The red-head slowly put the poleaxe she was previously holding on the ground and kicked it to the side. Soon, all of our five saviours did the same with their respective weapons. This is not good; now the bandit can simply…

"Heh heh heh...All right, so now you're all unarmed. Which means... All you can do is watch while I gut this whiny brat like a fat pig!" …I knew it.

Luckily, our captor made two crucial mistakes. First, in order to reach Mist, he had to pass in front of me. Second, he had to untie my legs so that I could walk out of the house. You can all see where this is going.

The instant he was in front of me, I shoved my knee with all my strength in his abdomen. His body bent forward from the impact as my leg returned to its initial position. I then went for another knee strike, this time catching him straight in the face, resulting in an oh-so-satisfying crunching noise when his nose bone broke into splinters. The bandit collapsed to the ground and started whimpering. I gave him a few extra kicks for good measure. That's what you get for punching me, you bastard.

"I think you can stop now" said the red-haired knight while untying my arms.

"I know. It feels bloody good though." My response elicited a few good chuckles from the group.

"I'm sure it does. But… Euh… Who are you?" Oh right, I need to introduce myself. Sorry, brother of Mist.

"Brother, everyone, this is Ghost. Ghost, this is…" Thank you Mist. I hate introductions.

After the introductions were done, I went back into the wooden house in order to grab my equipment. I realize after a few tries that my GPS isn't working and neither is my radio. In fact, nothing electronic works. Marvellous. Note to self: give the tech boys back home a few good smacks in the head when I get back. "These new electronics are bloody indestructible", they said. My arse. Weapon-wise, I used up all my grenades and claymores in the battle in the storehouse, and my Bushmaster ACR is nowhere to be found. At least I still have my trusty M1911 and my combat knife. Checking my utility belt, I learn that I have no other magazines for my pistol, so I only have seven bullets left.

I left the shack and re-joined my new friends. The mercenaries' base of operations is a mere thirty minutes of walk away. Thirty minutes that will be used, of course, to bombard me with questions.

"Are you seriously named Ghost? That's a pretty weird name." said Boyd, the middle one of the green-haired brothers. He is around seventeen and already a self-proclaimed "hardened warrior". This claim usually elicits eye rolling from the rest of the group.

"My mother initially wanted 'Cuddly Fluffykins', but in the end she settled for 'Ghost'."

"Why do you wear a mask? Do you ever take it off?" This one is from Titania, the knight with the red hair. She's the second-in-command of the mercenary group and a mother figure of sorts to the younger members. Her straight posture makes me believe that she has served in the military or at least some sort of marching band before.

"My face looks like a foot grafted on an ass. The mask makes me look handsome in comparison."

"So what do you do for a living?" Oscar is the oldest of the green-haired brothers and one of the two mercenaries who rides a horse. He looks like a calm and collected individual. He always has his eyes half-closed for some reason; I'm amazed that he can see where he's jabbing that lance of his.

"Special Operative."

"What's a Special Operative?" asks a confused Mist.

"We play golf."

"Golf?"

"No. Actually, we're elite soldiers focusing on stealth and infiltration usually tasked to eliminate priority targets." In other words, we go sneaky-sneaky behind enemy lines, murder anyone barking orders and set fire to anything inflammable within arm's reach. I love my job.

"Really? So you're a soldier? What weapons to you use?" Blue-haired Ike is the mercenary leader's son. He's very honest and blunt (and impolite, but I don't really mind since I'm not exactly a paragon of virtue either). He might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but his heart is at the good place. I'm told that he'll inherit of his father's mercenary group; he'll make a good leader.

"Firearms, grenades, knives, all sorts of stuff." We have an amazing selection of weapons back at the HQ. Human beings are astonishingly good at inventing new brilliant ways to kill each other.

"You can shoot fire from your arms? You must be a mage then!" The last member of our group is Rhys, the designated medic and also a priest of sorts (he worships a goddess named "Ashera", apparently). He's a white-robed, sick-looking young man who is so skinny I'm surprised the wind hasn't blown him away yet. Definitely not battlefield material. Recruitment standards must be different in "Tellius".

"No, I am not a mage. We leave all the fire breathing to our superiors." Seriously, a mage? There are still people that believe in magic?

"Breathe fire? Is your commander a dragon?"

"Not a dragon, Rolf. No dragon worth its salt would be scared to death by dogs…"

My new allies are based in an old stone fort. Three gates lead to a central courtyard surrounded by thick, stone ramparts. The small stable on the western side of the courtyard houses the two war horses of the company while a small shack on the eastern side most likely stores miscellaneous everyday objects such as shovels and whatnot. The main building is located on the northern side of the courtyard. On the first floor are the planning room, the armoury, the library, the mess hall and the food reserves while all personal bedrooms are situated one floor above. The layout is very similar to Makarov's storehouse without the basement.

Since we arrived just in time for diner, we head straight for the mess hall. During the meal, I am quickly introduced to the rest of the mercenaries: Gatrie, a blond man clad in a heavy blue armour set, Shinon, a heavy drinker with a red ponytail and a face that I can only describe as "punchable", and Greil, the leader of this mercenary group and a massive man whose scars tell about the past battles he has been though. Judging from what I am seeing, these mercenaries form a pretty tightly-knit group. Jokes, smiles and laughter abound. Just like how the 141 used to be.

Which reminds me. Shepherd, I've got an axe to grind with you now. You better be very, very good at hiding because I'm coming for you, even if it means chasing you to the far ends of the Earth and beyond. Nobody gets to shoot one of my best friends and live.

This grub is pretty good… Much better than the stuff they served back at base. Ah, the joys of home cooking…

After filling our stomachs, Greil kindly allows me to consult their map scrolls. After two hours of me painstakingly digging in my hammered brain and mentally comparing every single landmass on Earth with the drawings on the map, all under the amused looks of both Greil and Titania, I finally come to the following conclusion:

This "Tellius" place is not on Earth.

No place on Earth has coastlines that even begin to resemble the borders of Tellius. This land is an inverted-U shaped peninsula isolated from an unknown continent by a vast desert (with one of the most amusing names I have ever saw: the "Desert of Death"). An archipelago of islands can be found to the south. Five distinct countries are present on the peninsula: Daein to the northeast, Crimea to the northwest, Gallia to the west, Goldoa to the south west, and Begnion everywhere else. The islands are separated between Kilvas and Phoenicis. The place with the closest geography on Earth that I can think of is the Iberian Peninsula, except that their small group of islands is located to the west and not the south, and that, as far as I know, southern France isn't a giant desert (otherwise the Tour de France would be much more interesting).

"So? Were the maps of any help?"

"I'm afraid not Commander Greil. Tellius is unlike any place I have ever heard of. I am completely lost here. It looks like I've somehow got transported in a whole new world, as if my day wasn't bad enough already." Hopefully this world has some good beer too…

"Another world?" Greil and Titania are probably thinking that I am some kind of deranged lunatic. I honestly cannot blame them for that. I suppose a lengthy and detailed explanation is in order…

"If I correctly understand everything you just told me, the world where you come from is vastly different to ours. Magic does not exist, and their roles have been replaced by advanced machinery. Said machinery allow you to fly like birds, travel even faster than the best race horses, see what cannot be seen by human eyes and even more…"

"An excellent summary Commander Greil." That's why you're the leader, I guess.

"Hmm… Well, you're free to stay with us until you find a way to return to your home. You can take one of our guest rooms in the mean time."

"Much appreciated sir. Furthermore, I would like to join your mercenary group for the time being in order to earn my keep. It is currently the only way I have to repay you for your kindness, if it is not too much of a bother, of course." It's a good way to keep my skills sharp. Besides, it's not as if I had a very charged schedule right now.

"Of course, we could always use some extra hands around the base. Can you fight?"

"I can defend myself in hand-to-hand combat, although I am more comfortable with ranged weaponry. I don't think you have any assault rifles lying around here, so I might have to pick up a new weapon." No way will I ever run around with long, sharp objects of any kind again. The last time I did that was when I found my father's hedge shearers in elementary school. That didn't exactly end well.

"You can give archery a try if you're not too fond of melee combat. We've got a good archer here who can help you pick up the basics." Excellent. Hopefully I'll be able to impress some ladies with Robin Hood tricks when I get back. It looks like this trip won't be a complete waste of time after all.

"Archery it is then."

"Well, it's getting pretty late. I think we should all go to bed and get some rest. Your archery training will start tomorrow morning, if that is fine with you. I'll show you your room." Bloody hell Titania, you sound like my mother. I am a big boy now; I go to bed whenever I want to.

"Sounds lovely. Good night Commander."

"Good night. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go chew my son out." Greil then exited the room from another entrance. If he is anything like Captain MacTavish or Captain Price when it comes to discipline, Ike is screwed, big time.

My room contained a bed, a chair and a small table. A vast improvement over my room at the Task Force 141 barracks, which trades the table and the chair for an extra bed and Rook (who I'm pretty sure can trigger seismographs with his snores)…

Goddamn it guys, why did you have to all die on me?

Focus. I need to stop thinking about the past. Most of Task Force 141 is dead, and nothing I can do will ever change that fact. If any of my other teammates was here, he would probably give me a few good slaps behind the head and tell me to move on…

…Tomorrow. I really need some sleep right now. I guess you win this time, Titania.

I think I fell asleep before my head even touched the pillow. It's been a long day.

**Author's Notes:**

Well, here's chapter 1. Hopefully it isn't that bad. It took longer than I expected since I decided at the last second to rewrite half of it. I'm weird like that.

Also, I am not British, nor do I speak British. If I make Ghost say something that isn't British, please tell me in a review or PM. I'll correct it ASAP.

Again, reviews are much appreciated.

Edit: I uploaded the wrong version. Sorry :( Here's the right one.


	3. Chapter 2: Welcome to Gebal Hotel

**Author's Notes:** I do not own either Fire Emblem or Call of Duty. And you know that.

_Chapter 2: "Welcome to Gebal Hotel."_

**Day 12**

**Gallia, Tellius**

**Simon "Ghost" Riley**

**

* * *

**

I hate walking. There was a reason I enlisted as airborne and not as a ground trooper. We at least had planes to fly us around.

My thoughts drifted back to the events that happened today and lead to the encounter of two of the Four Riders, the Daein warrior elite, the right hands of the king of Daein himself.

The first was the rash Petrine; a young woman with long, dark green hair flowing down to her hips. She charged recklessly into battle on a steed as black as night, wielding a flaming lance that scorched anything it made contact with (how she could wield it without sustaining third degree burns was beyond me. Maybe she had very expensive gloves?). She and her troops had us cornered in an abandoned fort between Gallia and Crimea. Fortunately, with the timely interventions of both Commander Greil and a battalion of Gallian warriors, we were able to escape unscathed.

The second rider was the most fearsome and powerful. Encased in a massive suit of black armour, the so-aptly-called Black Knight is rumoured to by the mightiest warrior at Daein's service, second to only the king himself. Surprisingly, he had chosen not to fight us during our brief encounter. I'm not exactly complaining.

Regardless, we survived. Thus, we resumed our march towards a derelict castle to our west, where we will spend the night resting while waiting for an audience with the king of beasts.

Our trek started when a gravely wounded young man arrived on the door step of the mercenary fort. This scrawny-looking man, Soren of his name, was a friend of the mercenaries, and traveled here from Melior, the capital city of Crimea, to bring us some very bad news. Daein had gone to war and invaded Crimea. Utilizing shock tactics and air units in a combination very similar to the German Blitzkrieg during our World War 2, the Daein army smashed through the forces of an unprepared Crimea and quickly took the capital city, killing most of the Crimean nobility. And I thought my old world was a mess.

Soren had escaped during the siege of Melior but was caught by a small cavalry patrol. Still, he was able to fend them off and made his way to us. He died of his wounds during the night.

The day after, we found a young woman that turned out to be the hidden daughter of the King of Crimea. She was now the only heir to the Crimean throne, and actively looked for by the continent's currently most powerful army. We agreed to escort her to the neighbouring country of Gallia, where she could petition for aid in order to reclaim her throne. We packed up only the strict essentials before burning the rest and leaving the mercenary fort. Our journey was to be a dangerous one. After dodging many Daein ambushes and setting up a few of our own, we finally managed to place ourselves under the protection of the king of Gallia. V.I.P. protecting missions are the worst of them all. Most of the time, the V.I.P.s are nothing more than a hindrance. Princess Elincia was no exception. She's an O.K. person to be with, but a total ditz when it came to military matters. For christ's sake, how are you supposed to conceal and protect a person wearing a bright orange dress? Never tell her that I said that, though.

Gallia is the home of a different type of people, the Laguz. Laguz are able to transform into different animals in combat (usually felines or birds, with a few rare dragons), giving them strength far beyond any of us puny humans (or Beorc). However, staying in animal form seems to be very tiring, as they spend most of their time in their human form. Laguz in human form are pretty easy to recognize in their humanoid form since they keep a few features from the animals they transform in. For example, feline Laguz have cat ears and a fluffy tail while in human form, while bird Laguz have wings. Gallia is the home of the aforementioned feline Laguz. Yes, there are literally catgirls in Tellius. No, I'm not interested.

Fortunately, the Princess had left with Gallian soldiers for to meet with the king of Gallia (also known as the king of beasts), so we were able to make it to the castle before sunset. We quickly settled in, unpacking our stuff (not that we were carrying much). A Gallian platoon soon arrived with the supplies we were promised. Excellent, I was starting to get sick of salted meat. It tastes like rubber marinated in sweat.

Ike, Boyd, Shinon, Gatrie and Greil all set off to scout the perimeter for enemy threats, leaving Oscar, Rhys, Titania, Mist, Mia and I to work on making Gebal castle a liveable place. Hopefully, there are enough rooms for us all. Oscar and Mist immediately started cooking dinner with the food the Laguz gave us, while Titania and Rhys worked on preparing the living quarters. Mia and I were tasked to search the castle for anything useful. Mia is the Greil Mercenaries' newest recruit. A nimble sellsword swordswoman, she joined us earlier today during the battle in the abandoned fort after she was liberated from Daein imprisonment by Greil.

"You know, you guys are pretty well organized for a mercenary group. You have a cook, a leader, healers, and all that stuff. Most groups I've been with were just a bunch of guys that were unable to do anything other than fight and get drunk in pubs. You guys look more like an army than a mercenary group." Mia loves talking, and thus talks a lot. Too bad I'm not exactly the best conversation partner one could wish for.

"Really?" Mia, I'm not listening right now.

"Yeah, you guys are pretty awesome to be with. You know what? If you guys ever decide to retire as mercenaries, you could start an inn! This castle would be an excellent spot! It's perfect for people who travel between Gallia and Crimea! I wonder how you'll call it…" Mia, this is the wrong time for this. I really should tell her that we have more pressing matters at hand…

"Gebal Hotel?" …But I think I'll play along. We really need some a second source of positivity around here to supplement Mist. Also, you might have noticed that I'm really bad at naming things.

"Yeah, that'll work! All that's left is to…

"Hey Ghost? Could you come give Titania a hand? The innermost room seems to be locked from the inside, so we need to knock the door down." Rhys, you have no idea how grateful I am for your timely intervention.

"Sure. The previous occupants stripped this place bare before leaving anyways."

The three of us headed back to where Titania was. Mia was, of course, chatting with poor Rhys about something. Something about robes and rivals. I don't want to know.

Fifteen minutes of effort were required for Titania and me to knock down that bloody door. Upon us entering, we understood why; the richly decorated walls, the chandelier, the expensive carpet, the luxurious bed… Everything pointed to a noble's room. Or at least someone with way too much money to spend.

"These paintings are beautiful! What do you think Ghost?"

"A magnificent source of gold for the company coffers." Sorry Rhys, I'm not much of an artsy person.

"Or we could use the money for our new hotel!" Goddamn it Mia. Not that again.

"Hotel?" asked an intrigued Titania. I just put my hand on my face and rubbed my temples. She got the general idea.

"Now that we're done here, I think I should go help in the kitchen!" Mia seems to have an unlimited pool of energy to draw from. Incredible.

* * *

By the time Titania, Rhys and I finished establishing our living quarters, the mercenaries on patrol were back.

"Welcome to Gebal Hotel!" a cheery Mist greeted them. Oh boy. Don't tell me Mia talked you into this.

"Gebal Hotel? What did I miss?" Greil's taking this pretty well though, and so did the others. Except Shinon. Shinon hates everything.

I guess it shows that they weren't with Mia all afternoon.

"Mia had this idea that, if one day we retire from being mercenaries, we should open an inn!"

"An inn, eh? Not that bad of an idea."

"It's a great idea! Now come in, dinner's ready!" Those were the magical words. All of us immediately rushed to the main hall. We were all starving.

* * *

After dinner, we all left to do our own things. Rhys retired early to rest. Mist and Mia were talking about the hotel business again with Titania. Boyd, Oscar, Rolf and Gatrie were playing a card game (it looked like a different version of poker). Greil and Ike went outside to take a walk. I decided to go practice my archery outside. Ever since the second day I got here, I was tutored by no other than _Master _Shinon himself. Aren't I the lucky one? I took out my iron bow and few dozen arrows and fired them at a nearby tree. Most shots grazed it on the sides; the others didn't even come close. I still need more practice.

During our practice sessions, I used both a bow and a crossbow. A bow is much less like a direct-fire weapon such as a rifle than an indirect one such as an under-slung grenade launcher. Aiming slightly higher for long-range targets did increase my accuracy, and so did relaxing my bow arm when releasing the arrow. I still can't hit the target every single time though, even after a whole month of practice. It's annoying me. I was hitting targets dead center after a few weeks with assault rifles.

I had much more success with crossbows. Aiming with a crossbow is fairly similar to a rifle; there is a small iron sight similar to the ones on SMGs, the bolts travel in a straight path to the target just like a bullet, and the crossbow itself has a general layout identical to an assault rifle (handle, trigger, long barrel-ish part). However, bolts travel much slower than bullets, meaning that you need a bit of prediction in order to hit a moving target, and have much less penetrating power, so you can't consistently take out enemies hiding behind light cover. Rate of fire is much slower (although not as slow as I initially thought) and each bolt must be loaded separately. In a way, it's like firing an old shotgun. In addition, the reloading process is fairly simple; all I have to do is to insert my foot in the ring on the front of the crossbow to secure it, and then pull back the string with both hands. Put another bolt in the rail, and I'm good to go. Not exactly rocket science.

"Not bad." Looks like Shinon was watching.

"Spying on me, teach?"

"Beats staying with the rest of those idiots." Oh Shinon, you're such an enjoyable human being.

"I guess that it means that you're not interested in the 'Gebal Hotel' project?"

"Screw you."

"Likewise." We have an amazing teacher-student relationship. It's a wonder I managed to learn anything from him. My next shot grazed the tree again. Damn it. Why can't I hit the bloody tree?

"Say, teach. Why the hell did you accept to teach me archery? If you liked hurting yourself that much, why don't you just go stab yourself with a knife or something?"

"You're right, I don't exactly like you. But you have some potential with a bow."

"So you would take in anyone with potential? How noble."

"No. In your case, it was because Greil ordered me to."

"Screw you."

"Likewise."

However, before we could continue our exchange of insults, we were interrupted by Ike. Carrying an unconscious and bleeding Greil.

Shit! RHYS! GET OVER HERE!

As Shinon scrambled to go fetch our healers, I helped Ike lay his father down. Greil had a huge bleeding wound on his chest that went through his torso. It looked like someone stabbed him with a spear. Using bits of his cape, I managed to somewhat clean up the wound and bandage it in an effort to slow down the bleeding. I have no idea how much good that will do though; the ribcage was broken and the lung pierced. When Rocket received a 7.62mm round in the chest during our escape from Brazil, he died less than half an hour after despite our efforts. Greil's wound was much larger and deeper. But we didn't have magic in Brazil. Maybe that could save him. I saw Rhys use his magic for some pretty amazing recoveries since I got here.

The rest of the mercenaries arrived quickly. Rhys and Mist immediately started healing Greil, both of their staffs glowing with energy, their faces tense in concentration, tears streaking down their cheeks. Titania had her face buried in her hands, and Boyd was trying his best to comfort her, even though he was crying too. Oscar was hugging a sobbing Rolf. Shinon had an expression of pure anger on his face and Gatrie was grasping the shaft of his lance so tightly his knuckles were as white as snow. Ike was kneeling besides the body of his father and weeping uncontrollably. Mia and I could do nothing else than to stand awkwardly on the side. We were the new guys. They were there since the beginning.

"A little longer… Stay a little longer…" I put a reassuring hand on Ike's shoulder. Poor kid.

Eventually, the staffs went dark, Rhys and Mist having ran out of energy. Both healers collapsed due to the effort. We all had to accept the inevitable conclusion: Greil was gone. We were too late.

* * *

Gatrie and I carefully transported Greil's body inside Gebal castle. We placed him on the bed in the luxurious, innermost room and covered him with the priceless silk sheets. Before leaving, Ike closed his father's eyelids with trembling fingers.

There would be no sleep for the inhabitants of Gebal castle tonight. Only tears for their recently departed leader.

* * *

I woke up at dawn, like I usually do. Mia was up early too, and we decided to make breakfast. Mist and Oscar deserved a day off, especially after what happened yesterday evening.

After a silent breakfast, we brought Greil's body back to the clearing in which he, according to Ike, fought against and was defeated by the Black Knight. Greil was a great soldier, even in his final moments, so it seemed right for him to be inhumed at the site of his final battle. Everyone helped to dig his grave. We lowered Greil's body draped in a silk sheet (a different one than the one we used last night to cover him) into our makeshift grave before filling it. Ike marked the spot by firmly planting Greil's massive battleaxe, Urvan, in the soil. Mist and Titania deposited a freshly woven crown of flowers. Not a single word was uttered during all this time. There was no need for words. Sorrow is a universal language.

We gave Commander Greil a burial worthy of a king. He deserved it.

I couldn't help myself but to shed a tear. I've seen many of my teammates fall in combat, yet Commander Greil was different. He was a born leader, a man that could inspire loyalty and bravery from his troops. He was as hard as steel in combat, yet he also knew to be compassionate when necessary. As a commander, he cared deeply for those under his command, and would never have given an order he wouldn't be willing to execute himself. My only regret was that I didn't really get to know him well in the short time I served under him.

My thoughts naturally lead me to my previous commanders. Before I was sent to Tellius, I was under the command of Captain John MacTavish. From the last I have heard of him, he was in an aircraft boneyard in Afghanistan with fellow Captain Jonathan Price, searching for a notorious Russian terrorist named Vladimir Makarov. I suspect that since Shepherd was intent on eliminating the entirety of Task Force 141, he must also have sent men to deal with MacTavish and Price. I hope they survived.

I removed my sunglasses, my headphones and then my balaclava. The Greil Mercenaries were my new family now. It seemed wrong to hide my face from them. It was a bit late though. Commander Greil never had the occasion to see my face.

* * *

"Taking a stroll, teach?"

Shortly after Greil's burial, Ike announced his intention to succeed his father as the leader of the mercenary company. We all knew that it was inevitable: Greil, somehow sensing his impending death, had started grooming his son to become a leader before I even met them. I, like many others, agreed to continue serving under Ike's orders. However, not everyone did; I caught Shinon and Gatrie leaving the fort shortly after.

"No. We're leaving."

"I thought as much. Because of Ike?"

"Yeah. That dumb pup will get us all killed." Shinon and Ike have this hate-hate relationship with each other.

"You agree, Gatrie?"

"It's not that I don't like Ike. It's just… I want to do more with my life than serve in a small mercenary company, you know?" You want more money. Of course.

"Like serving in multiple small mercenary companies?"

"Well, it's complicated…" So you don't trust Ike either, eh?

"Whatever. I don't care what your reasons are. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. Just hurry up before I change my mind."

"…Ghost."

"Teach?"

"Take good care of Rolf."

"…Sure."

They turned away and left. Bloody deserters. I better go tell Ike about this.

* * *

"Hey, boss! I've got really bad news! Look outside!"

After Shinon and Gatrie's departure, Titania and I spent the next few days teaching Ike about the finer facets of troop command, such as intelligence gathering, logistics and equipment. Unsurprisingly, the poor boy was unable to take in so much information at once, so we had to start all over, and more than once. Our audience with the Gallian kind had still not yet been scheduled, but it was better this way. We needed the extra time to get over the company's recent changes in leadership.

"What's going on?" Titania turned away from the treasury scrolls she and Ike were perusing to face Mia. I went to the window and saw that the swordfighter wasn't exaggerating when she said _really_ bad news.

"Around…" I made a quick headcount. "Forty foot mobiles in black armour closing in fast on the castle. I guess Daein finally found us."

"They pursued us even through the Gallian border?" Titania mused. "They must be out of their minds."

"Somehow, I don't think that survival is very high on their list of priorities. We'll have to do something, and fast. We're already surrounded. Any ideas, Commander?" Come on Ike, you're the leader. Say something.

"We're going to fight. Greil Mercenaries, ready yourselves!" Now that's more like it. Let's do this.

* * *

Since we were greatly outnumbered, we decided to concentrated our defences around the main entrance to the castle keep. This entrance was accessible from three different directions: a small gate leading directly to the outside of the castle on the south, and two ramps that lead to the walls on both the eastern and western sides. We divided ourselves into three teams: Titania and Rolf will hold the southern path, Boyd and I will defend the western one, while Ike, Mia and Oscar will take the remaining larger ramp. Mist and Rhys will be moving from team to team to whichever one is in the most need of healing at the moment.

Boyd and I took position at the stairs, Boyd blocking the stairway with me behind him, an arrow already notched on my iron bow and ready to fire. Boyd's axe was the same battered one he left Crimea with; a single fissure ran along the edge from top to bottom, so I'm guessing that it only had a few swings left before breaking. His backup axe was a small throwing axe, not suiting for direct combat. As for me, I had to resort to using my bow, as I only had a few crossbow bolts left. It appears that crossbow-users are rare in Crimea (although it does raise the question of why the mercenaries had a crossbow in the first place). I took a quick peak around the corner to see what was coming our way. As long as we weren't up against heavily armoured opponents, we'll be fine.

They were already on the wall and advancing towards us. Armoured knights. Four of them. Of course. Why can't anything be simple for once? I swapped my bow for my crossbow. Seven bolts. A lucky number. Better make them count and take out a few tangos before they reach us.

My first shot caught the leading knight in the chest. Not a lethal wound, but I doubt he'll keep fighting with a hole in his lung. I was aiming for the head, but I'll take whatever life throws my way.

The second and third shots missed completely. I guess I should stop aiming for the head. Good thing Captain Price isn't here. I can already hear him: "I should get MacMillan to whip you back in shape", "Remarkable, now try aiming for the enemy in front instead of the one in the back" and "I guess you should stop training with watermelons and try some real targets for a change".

They were closing in. My fourth and last bolt struck a Daein soldier in the neck. I switched my heavy crossbow for the lighter bow and retreated behind Boyd.

"Here they come, Boyd. I hope you did your practice swings. This is going to get bloody."

Boyd grinned before smashing his axe on the first knight's helm. The head shattered under the force of the impact, spraying splinters of iron in every direction. Nevertheless, the sheer force of the impact was strong enough to drop the enemy combatant like a sack of potatoes. Dropping what remained of his axe, Boyd drew two hand axes from his belt and engaged the remaining knight.

In the meantime, I was having a little shooting war with two mages. Both were furiously lobbing fireball after fireball in my direction, leaving me no time to aim and draw my bow. After a few minutes of me running around like a headless chicken to avoid being well-cooked, I lost patience, dropped my bow and grabbed a rock about the size of my fist from the ground, hurling it like a baseball towards one of my opponents. The rock collided with his face with a sickening crunch and sent him crashing onto the nearby wall. He was out cold. Shifting to face the second mage, I realized that he had conjured up a fireball the size of Shinon's ego (read: enormous) and was pointing it straight at me. Fortunately for me, before he could throw it, a hand axe embedded itself into his chest, fracturing at least three rib bones and piercing the left lung. His body went limp and he slumped to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the wall. Thanks Boyd. I owe you one.

"Nice rock throwing skills. Where did you learn that?"

"Elementary school. We took Rock-Paper-Scissors very seriously back then."

That went pretty well. I was unharmed, while Boyd had only a few minor cuts. Our opponents weren't so lucky: the first knight's skull exploded like a watermelon from Boyd's axe smash, the face of the mage that I stoned was literally concave, the second mage was slowly bleeding to death through his massive chest wound and the final knight looked like a vaguely human-shaped lump of strawberry jelly with a few armour pieces mixed in. We looted the bodies before laying them in the middle of the path to slow down the next wave of attackers. We didn't get much for our troubles; they were armed with lances and fire tomes, neither of which Boyd and I could use. We did find an unused vulnerary and salvage two crossbow bolts plus Boyd's hand axe though.

The second and third waves were similar to the two first ones; bowmen and mages provided fire support for the advancing heavy infantry. Both times they were greeted by crossbow bolts, and any survivors were cut up by Boyd. Damage sustained was minimal. Loot wise, we didn't get much, only a longbow, since Boyd's fighting style involved breaking lances like chopsticks and since the enemy mages had the nasty habit of bleeding all over their tomes when I shot them. However, the situation was worsening by the minute; I was out of bolts to fire, and Boyd's hand axe looked like it would shatter if even Rhys blew on it.

It seemed like that we were not the only team running out of supplies. After the third wave, we heard the signal to fall back to the central structure of the fort. We arrived at the central courtyard first, followed by Titania's group. Although Rolf was unharmed, Titania had a bleeding wound on her right thigh. It seemed that both healers were with Ike's team. The eastern wall was the largest one; it made sense that it would be enemy's main axis of advance.

"Man, and I thought we had it bad with the knights. What happened to you two?" asked Boyd while opening one of our scavenged vulneraries and rubbing the thick liquid on Titania's leg. The bleeding stopped and the skin healed, but the damage to the muscle tissue still remained. Titania is going to limp for the next few weeks. Good thing she has a horse.

"Cavalry. Lots of them. They rode in a giant circle and whoever was in front of us threw a javelin. We tried to fire back, but it's hard to hit moving targets, especially under a constant stream of javelins. We did eventually get all of them though, but Titania had to charge them head on. That's how she got hit." A Cantabrian circle? Damn, the enemy commander knows his stuff. I'm happy you didn't get hurt, Rolf. Shinon would come back, Ike or not, just to beat me up if you did.

"Good, you're all here. How's everyone?" Ah, it seems like our third team had arrived. They looked in pretty good shape (of course, they were hogging all the healers, remember?).

"Hey Ike, who's the new girl?" Ike's group had a new addition: a young, pale-skinned girl with purple hair with a green shirt, a small traveler's cape, a skirt so short she might as well not be wearing any and a yellow book in her hands. Like the ones Soren used to have. I guess that means that she's a mage too.

"You know, Commander?" I remarked "These days, every time Titania and I leave you, you manage to come back with a new young female recruit. You're a pretty popular, lad. I'm proud of you."

"Well, Ilyana's merchant caravan was captured by Daein and they forced her to fight us. I just thought that some new equipment could help us get off unscathed from future Daein attacks..."

"Yeah, Ike. I'm sure she can help you get off, if…"

"Ilyana" interrupted Titania while glaring at Boyd, "Ignore this moron. Welcome to the Greil Mercenaries. Unfortunately, I am afraid that proper introductions will have to wait for later. We should barricade ourselves inside the keep before the Daein soldiers return."

* * *

We ran into the castle and quickly started setting up defenses. We raised tables and moved furniture to obstruct the windows and block the door. Titania passed Boyd her last spare axe. Ike rummaged through Soren's stuff (he refused to leave behind his deceased friend's belongings when we left) and took out a green magic tome for Ilyana, who smiled and slid the book into a small bag on her waist. Oscar led his and Titania's mounts to another room in the back, grabbing on the way a spare lance Gatrie left behind. Mia drew both of her swords, testing the edges with her fingers before nodding to herself and sheathing them again. Rhys and Mist were busy healing the various minor injuries we all had. Rolf and I stocked up with what little arrows we had left and took place on the second floor, from where we could pepper the approaching enemies before they started smashing down the doors.

"Ghost?"

"Yes Rolf?"

"Do… Do you think we're going to make it?"

"Honestly? I don't know if all of us will make it. But I at least know that you and Mist will. You two are too young to die in a shithole like this. I'll get you out of here even if it's the last thing I do. If I don't, Shinon will find a way to bring me back to life to kill me again."

"Uncle Shinon… I miss him." You know Rolf, I miss him too. Even though he was kind of an ass, he was a still good guy deep inside.

"Don't worry about him. I'm sure he's fine. You know Shinon. He's probably getting drunk right now while watching Gatrie harass some poor girl again… Here they come."

This was bad. The Daein commander had even more troops in reserve than I thought. There were at least fifty soldiers entering the courtyard. It was only a matter of time before we were overwhelmed. Rolf and I drew our bows.

"Mercenaries!" bellowed their captain, "You took on the Daein army with meager numbers, and you've fought well. My compliments. However, it ends now. Lay down your weapons!"

"Come and get them!" was Ike's answer. "Eat my ass!" was Boyd's. I fired my arrow, hitting a spearman in the shoulder. Rolf released his bowstring. The Daein captain collapsed with a resounding thud, an arrow protruding from his neck. Damn it, I'm getting beat by a kid not even half my age.

As the black-clad soldiers charged forward, a loud shriek shook the air. What the bloody hell was that? It sounded like that time when MacTavish's cat caught his tail in the vacuum cleaner. Both mercenaries and Daein troops, puzzled, paused to look around, searching for the source of the noise.

A yellow blur dashed from the western wall, crashing into the Daein ranks, moving faster than the eye could follow, tearing through Daein armour like wet paper. Simultaneously, an enormous blue mass pounced in from the southern entrance and barrelled through our opponents like a freight train. The Daein contingent was wiped out to the last man in a matter of seconds in a hurricane of twisted steel and broken bones.

As the dust settled, we finally got a good view of our saviours: a huge yellow cat (Panther? Cougar?) and an even bigger blue tiger. Then, in a flash of light, they morphed into human beings. The yellow feline became a girl dressed in green, while the blue one transformed into a muscular man in blue clothing. Both retained the feline ears and the long tail from their animal appearance. So these are the Laguz. Truly fearsome opponents. They're friendly… right? Ike and Titania, unarmed and with their hands raised, came out to meet them. Rolf and I each notched another arrow.

"So, uh… Are you two from the palace? Did the king of Gallia send you?"

"He did" answered the blue tiger. "I am Mordecai, warrior of Gallia. Your hair is blue. You are Ike. Is this correct?" Everybody let out a collective sigh upon hearing these words. It feels so good to finally meet people who do not want to kill you for once.

* * *

While Titania and Ike were discussing matters with the beast king's envoys, the rest of the team were recovering from our last battle. Oscar and I took upon us the task of purchasing new supplies from Ilyana's merchant friends. It turns that they were traveling to Begnion when they were captured by the Daein detachment that attacked us. They have been kept prisoner ever since, until they were liberated by Mordecai and his laguz companion. Ilyana suggested that they could accompany us during our journey and supply us with weapons, medicine and other equipment, all at advantageous prices. They gladly accepted, as Daein soldiers weren't exactly treating them well. And boy did we need it. After the last battle, we were pretty much scraping the sides of the jar weapon-wise, especially me and Rolf. We tend to burn through arrows like crazy.

"Good news mercenaries! We're going to the see the king of beasts!" About bloody time too. We nearly got killed waiting for that. I guess stupidly slow bureaucracy is an integral part of any society.

Although Mordecai suggested that we wait a little before setting off for the palace, the Greil Mercenaries were all packed up and ready to go few minutes later. However, just before leaving, Mist turned around to get one least look at the castle.

"Brother, we're going to come back one day, right?" she asked.

"Of course, Mist. This is Father's resting place, after all."

"Yeah. And besides, we still have to open 'Gebal Hotel'…"

Oh for Christ's sake…

"Tell me," I asked Titania, "How far is the royal palace?"

"About ten kilometres away, if memory serves right."

Oh bloody hell. I hate walking.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Oh boy, look at the time fly. I completely forgot about writing for a while (I blame Mass Effect and Dawn of War 2: Retribution). I've also been juggling a few ideas for other fics. I'm really sorry (if anyone was waiting for this, that is). Here, have a 5,700 word chapter as my apology (are my chapters too long?).

As you might have noticed, I skipped a few parts of the game (and tweaked the story a bit). I'm actually planning to cover the whole PoR story in 5 chapters (I'll be skipping a lot of parts) and an epilogue. That's mostly because I'd rather not write a massive story on my first attempt (I know that I'll screw it up if I do) and because I have a rather short attention span (I don't want to lose interest in Second Chance before I finish it, and I'd rather not put stories on hiatus for 6 months or so). Why exactly 5 chapters, and not 7 or 10? I'll let you guys figure that out (there's actually a reason).

Yes, Soren died. No, he won't be coming back.

Also, reviews. I like reviews. It tells me that someone has actually read this. That makes me feel good. Even if you think that my writing is a steaming pile of poo, leave a review saying "Your writing is a steaming pile of poo." I won't be offended (Ghost won't come and murder you either, he's a British gentleman after all). I'm here to get better at this writing stuff.

Finally, I've reposted the previous chapters as .odt files rather than .doc files. I don't know if it changes much, but hey, it's "recommended", right?

(Parentheses are fun.)


	4. Chapter 3: We are Oscar Mike!

**Author's Notes:**

I do own Fire Emblem and Call of Duty. As in, I own a copy of most of the Fire Emblem games released in North America and the CoD Modern Warfare series, I'm still working on buying the franchises though (yeah, like that's going to happen).

* * *

_Chapter 3: We are Oscar Mike!_

**Day 28**

**Begnion, Tellius**

**Simon "Ghost" Riley**

* * *

"_Planeswalker"_

I looked up from the dusty old tome to the ceiling. That word seemed so ridiculous. But, somehow, deep inside, I knew that it was important.

Initially, I was only going to the bookstore with Ilyana to restock on magic tomes. While she was searching for the appropriate volumes, I just wandered around in the store, picking out books at random, flipping through a few pages before putting them back from where I took them. Most books were about magical theory, which made as much sense to me as Chinese poetry. The last one, however, was different. The blank metal-coated surface was lighter but sturdier than the other heavy leather covers. The pages were cut with mechanical precision, and the binding was not made of the usual smelly, white sticky substance (ok, that came out wrong) but of what seemed to be a multitude of small metallic staples. It was obvious to me that this book was not Tellian, since Tellius hadn't even invented the printing press yet. How did it get there? Shaking my head, I reread the first sentence for what must have been the one hundredth time.

"_I am Aramus of Calderis, Captain of the Immortal Emperor's Blood Ravens Space Marine chapter, __excommunicate and Planeswalker. This volume contains my story."_

That's one hell of a resume.

"Ghost? You better not be naked in there because we're coming in!"

Letting out a chuckle, I stood up from the chair and turned to face my visitors as the door flew open. Mist was standing in the doorway, a cute little pout on her face and a tray of food in her hands. Behind her was Titania.

"…Did I forget breakfast again?"

"Yes, you did. And you shouldn't." It was a well known fact that anyone who skipped a meal had Mist chasing after them with a plate of food. And she was a stubborn one; she relentlessly hounded you until you ate.

"Mist's right, Ghost. You need to eat your vegetables if you want to grow up to become big and strong, you know." Little did Titania know that I spent the whole of middle and high school living on junk food and alcohol, and yet I still managed to grow up pretty big and strong.

"All right, mother." The "mother" thing has become a little recurring joke between Titania and me.

"Oh, and Ike wants to see you in half an hour. We're moving out for soon, so he probably wants to start strategizing right now." And by "strategizing", Titania means "she and I discuss strategy while Ike looks at us like a lost puppy". Although he's quite good at logistic, intelligence and tactical matters, he's still completely hopeless when it comes to the bigger picture. Ever since… the incident at Gebal Castle, Titania and I had been doing all the planning. It is nothing new to me, although I always tend to forget that we can't just shoot the enemies dead from half a kilometre away anymore. What would I not give right now for a good old SAS platoon? I bet we could carve a way to the Daein capital by ourselves in about a week.

Speaking of super soldiers, I wonder what happened to Aramus? I went back to my reading, food in hand.

"_My actions have irreversibly altered the future of this world. Although I have done what had been needed in order to bring peace, I have associated myself with a heretic goddess in doing so, shaming myself for all of eternity before my Emperor. There shall be no forgiveness for my acts. Nevertheless, it is my hope that this tome will perpetuate the truth about the events of the past and help prevent a similar catastrophe from happening in the future."_

Hmm. It seems that Mist has learned to put less ass and more actual food in her meals. She's getting better at this cooking thing.

"_But first, the beginning. I was born on the desolated world of Calderis, a sparsely populated planet covered by sand and rock. At a young age, I was chosen to become a Space Marine, mankind's champions against the alien and the heretic. I have fought in many battles, always emerging triumphant above the bodies of my slain enemies. And yet, in the end, I was weak."_

Sounds like the story of my life. Just replace "alien" with "terrorists".

"_The daemon we were facing was powerful. I saw my brothers fall at my side one after the other. No amount of zeal or fury could match its sheer strength. In the end, in my despair, I committed an unforgivable sin: I embraced the power of Chaos, fighting darkness with darkness. I was victorious against the daemon, but it was already too late for my soul. I had fallen for the treacherous daemonic whispers of the Warp."_

I stabbed a piece of sausage with my fork, before raising it to my mouth and turning the page_._

"_For my felony, I was excommunicated from my Chapter and sent on a penitent crusade of a hundred years in length. I was stripped of my rank and belongings before being left on a dead planet ruled by a ferocious daemon. My only hope to regain my honour as a Space Marine was to defeat the monstrosity, a feat that many stronger than me had attempted in the past and failed."_

That's… pretty harsh. Captain MacTavish used to make us run laps around the barracks to punish us. Those "Space Marines" guys must be pretty hardcore.

"_And yet, there was a small hope: there was one piece of wargear that my brothers did not take away: the dark armour that had corrupted me. With this thought in my mind, I went in search of my foe. If this daemonic wargear could give me the strength to defeat one demon, I reasoned, surely it could allow me to defeat another? _

_I was gravely mistaken. _

_Like many other before me, I was unable to overcome the beast. My mortal body was torn apart, and my soul was to be offered to the Dark Gods. However, it was then, as I would understand later, that my Ascension occurred._

_I felt no pain or any other sensation. My body became numb, unresponsive to exterior stimuli and my vision turned white. I lost consciousness as my body left my home plane. When I finally came to myself, I was in another world, another universe."_

Certain death? A flash of white? Followed by a blackout? Then waking up in a foreign world?

That seems familiar. Too familiar to be a coincidence. I must have gone through this "Ascension" thing too. But why did it happen? Does it happen to everyone? Why was I sent to this world instead of another? Is there a hidden purpose behind all this? And who's the idiot that thought beet-flavoured sausages were a good idea?

I let out a sigh and closed the book. I'll figure this out later. I have a meeting to attend to.

* * *

"Ok, so how many soldiers do we have now?"

We had arrived at Begnion after a long and strenuous sea journey. Once there, contact was established with the Begnion Empress, who accepted to lend us a field army to lead against Daein, unlike the Gallian government (who were a bunch of pussies, in more than one way). The sole attached condition was that we had to help her in a series of small tasks. We gladly did so (and exposed a whole network of illegal Laguz slavery in the process). Right now, a whole Begnion army was lined up outside of the city's walls, awaiting our orders to march out.

"Twelve thousand men in total. I have been told that you are still inexperienced at commanding large armies. Would you like a basic rundown of the troops? I can also help you familiarize yourselves with standard Begnion battle tactics at the same time." The commander of the Begnion forces, General Zelgius, seemed to be a pretty decent guy. Tall, with short black hair and a massive suit of crimson armour, he had a very commandeering presence that is rare even among officers. He's most likely excellent at maintaining morale and encouraging his troops, but we'll have to see about his tactical abilities.

"That would be much appreciated, General."

"Excellent." General Zelgius placed different small figurines on the table, each representing a unit formation. I counted at least twenty different types. Some were easily recognisable, such as the pegasi and horsemen, while others were less clear. Among them was a bunch of little guys with different robes. I'm guessing those are mages. How they differed from each other, I had no idea.

"At the beginning of a battle, the first line is usually formed of archers." explained Zelgius, moving the corresponding pieces to the forward of the mass. "Archers are usually organized into small companies of eighty men. Their initial role is to barrage incoming enemy formations with coordinated volleys of arrows, before quickly retreating behind the other infantry to avoid being tied down in melee. Since they wear little to no armour, they are very mobile troops and can thus be redeployed as the battle progresses to provide ranged fire wherever it is needed. As you all surely know, the Begnion army is composed mainly of conscripts. The archer corps is no exception to the rule, although it does contain some professional soldiers. The standard archer is little more than a peasant familiar with a bow. The more talented archers are usually hand-picked by the general himself and transferred to the sniper formations. Snipers are experienced professional soldiers who perform much better in combat than their conscripted brethren. Finally, marksmen wield the feared longbow, a huge bow often as tall as the man himself that can outrange any weapon short of siege machinery. Marksmen are rare, as longbows require enormous amounts of strength to draw, and are usually deployed by the Senate only in battles of extreme importance. That we have two companies of Marksmen with us today speaks of how highly the Empress holds you in regard. Please try not to disappoint her and get them killed too quickly."

Hmm… I seem to recall something about archers being deployed first in medieval warfare from my "Ancient and Medieval Warfare" class back at Sandhurst. That used to be my favourite course, too.

"Behind the archers is the main meat of the army." Zelgius arranged the different spearmen figures into three main battle lines. "Most levies, unless they have a particular proficiency with another weapon, are equipped as spearmen. Armed with a simple set of body armour, a round shield and a two and a half meter long spear, spearmen fight in a dense rectangular formation of two hundred men, who stand shoulder against shoulder, shield against shield, with the first three ranks pointing their spears forward. This presents to the enemy a massive, sturdy shield wall behind row upon row of spearheads. The spearmen's main role on the battlefield is to crash against the enemy, each rank of spears thrusting rhythmically, to slowly grind the enemy lines into nothingness. Sentinels are another type of spear-armed infantry, but use a pike, a spear twice as long as the regular spearmen's, instead. This allows the first five to bring their pikes to bear against the enemy, greatly increasing their killing ability. Halberdiers are armed with halberds, weapons that are very effective against cavalry but can also be used against any other enemy. Halberds are however shorter than spears and pikes, meaning that halberdier formations lack the sheer killing power of other spear infantry. In combat, spearmen and sentinels are usually used to engage and defeat the opponent's front line, while halberdiers protect the flanks against cavalry charges. The spearmen are the backbone of the Begnion army and its main strength; very often there is no need for flanking manoeuvres simply because the spearmen have already broken through the opponent's main line."

"But aren't those spearmen formations weak to flanking attacks?" I asked. "Since all their shields and spears are pointing forward to maximize killing and pushing power, their flanks and rear are left open to attack. Mounted troops could be used to screen them, but that would pull valuable cavalry away from offensive functions." If there was one thing I remembered from "Ancient and Medieval Warfare", it was how Greek phalanxes worked. I love me some hoplite warfare.

"Indeed. Spearmen are usually decimated when assaulted from different directions. However, the Begnion army is large, usually much larger than its opponents. More often than not, our infantry ends up enveloping the opponent instead of the opposite. In the event of a line breach, troops from the second and third battle lines can be moved up to fill the gaps."

"So the answer is basically… to send in more men?"

"Indeed. To be honest, that tends to be Begnion's solution to most military problems. The one thing the empire does not lack is able bodies fit for war." Zelgius picked up a few more pieces and placed them between the spearmen lines. "In addition to the archers, spearmen are also supported by swordsmen and mages. Swordsmen are lightly equipped soldiers who rely less on mass and armour and more on speed and technique in battle. They are usually hired from mercenary groups similar to yours and have thus their own unique hierarchy. The lowest rank is the 'Myrmidon', named after the legendary warrior that is said to have taught Altina herself the art of swordsmanship. Myrmidons fight in small groups led by a master of the sword, or 'swordmaster'. Their role on the battlefield is mostly confined to flanking duties, striking at gaps in the enemy lines and darting in and out of the fray, since they are too fragile for sustained combat. However, the greatest swordmasters, those who can become one with their blade in battle and strike true on every blow, are among the best warriors in existence. Sadly, these 'Trueblades' are exceedingly rare and are solitary by nature, making assembling a strike force of them practically impossible."

"Why not give them better armour, a giant rectangular shield, and make them fight in tight formations just like the spearmen? I'm sure it would work out pretty well." I mean, the Romans did that, and they ended up conquering most of the western world.

"Daein conscripts are mostly equipped in this manner, instead of being spearmen. They usually perform poorly against our troops due to the spear, who has an inherent advantage over the sword, being the Begnion weapon of choice." Well, so much for that idea.

"The mages," the general continued, "are another critical component of the army. Although they lack the precision and the ability to shoot over obstacles like bowmen do, magic can pierce through enemy armour as if it was wet paper. Furthermore, many mages are also proficient in the use of staves. However, mages are physically weaker than other soldiers, and thus wear little to no protection. Mages are very difficult to employ correctly: they are mostly either deployed in either an elevated position to provide ranged support to the army or close to the main fighting to heal the foot soldiers, where they are at risk of being torn apart by enemy combatants. Exceptions include the archsages and bishops of the Church of Ashera, who can use Physic staves to heal from a distance while still unleashing deadly spells, and the cleric maidens, who can alternate between staves and swords in combat."

"Why not simply give every mage a Physic staff then?" Christ, I'm starting to feel like that nerdy kid in every class that is constantly raising his hand to ask questions.

"Sadly, unlike its smaller Crimean counterpart, our mage corps does not have the necessary resources to train all the mages to the level required for the use of Physic staves. Most mages are only barely able to use basic healing staves and a large proportion of the priests are woefully bad at light magic. Some mages fail to even pick up a secondary weapon. It is saddening, but that is how it is. And now, we move on to the cavalry." Zelgius moved most of the remaining figurines to the sides of the army. "The mounted units are mostly separated into two main categories: the gold and silver branches. I believe that the Crimean Royal Knights have a similar structure, am I correct?"

"Indeed. The Crimean Royal Knights have retained the main organizational structure it has inherited from Begnion when Crimea seceded. I used to serve in the gold knights."

"Very impressive, Lady Titania. Although you must be already familiar with the function of the horse units, I believe that that an explanation is still in order for good measure. If the infantry are the anvil of the army, then the cavalry is the hammer. The cavalry can harass the opponent's flanks and rear or screen friendly troops from attack. The shock arm of the cavalry corps are the gold knights. Gold knights carry either massive broadswords or heavy poleaxes in combat, and both rider and mount are covered from head to toe with thick mail armour. Gold knights are formed into brigades of eighty knights lead by a gold paladin. They have a devastating charge, and their heavy armour allows them to weather enemy ranged weaponry while they are closing in. Silver knights are the exact opposite. The rider wears light leather armour while the horse is unarmoured, meaning that silver knights are faster, more nimble, and less suited to direct combat than their gold counterparts. Silver knights are usually armed with ranged weapons such as bows and javelins to allow them to capitalize on their speed. They are mostly used as scouting or harassing units. Although they are quite frail, they can be used to charge enemies in a pinch, but it is best to leave direct assaults to the gold knights. Silver knights are organized in the same way as their gold homologues; silver paladins command a brigade of eighty knights."

"Has the Begnion army not considered issuing lances to silver knights?" inquired Titania. "Crimean silver knights are armed with lances in addition to bows and Javelins. That allows them to use their speed to catch unguarded soft units like archers and run them down."

"That is certainly an excellent idea, but unfeasible on a doctrinal level. Begnion silver knights are recruited from the famed nomads of the Sestohl plains. They view hand-to-hand combat as dirty and repugnant, and avoid it at all costs. Forcing them to use wield lances would most likely cause mass protestations, which are the last thing the army needs."

"All nomads? I thought there were also nobles in the silver knights?"

Ike, I don't think we should be talking about this.

"… Funny that you would mention that. The only noble that has been accepted in the silver knights is Lord Damiell's youngest daughter. She has recently fled the army and is rumoured to be travelling with a group of rather successful mercenaries. Her family is most displeased at her behaviour and has offered a rather large reward to whoever can bring her back home."

Crap. Astrid Damiell is indeed traveling with us. Good job Ike. You just blew the poor girl's cover.

Cue awkward silence.

I can see Titania biting her lower lip. Her maternal instinct must be kicking in.

…Come on, someone say something.

"…Moving on," said Zelgius while moving the last pieces behind all the others. Both Titania and Ike exhaled the breath they were holding. That came too close for comfort. We were lucky the general was a decent guy. "The last troops you have at your disposal are a small detachment of the Empress's own Holy Guard. The Holy Guard is Begnion's most famous military unit and their main duty is to protect the Empress herself. The Guard is composed exclusively of pegasus knights, and is divided into ten companies of one hundred women each. The group attached to this army, the first company, more commonly known as the First and Only, is the Guard's most prestigious and decorated formation. It is lead by the Seraph Knight Tanith."

"Seraph Knight?"

"Seraph Knights are the officers of the Holy Guard. Lady Sigrun, who you have met in the past, is also a Seraph Knight," explained the general. "The First and Only is composed solely of Falcoknights, elite pegasus knights who were awarded Falcon honours for bravery and valour in combat. They are trained in a multitude of tasks, including air combat, ground attack, scouting and patrol duties. They can use javelins to strike at range or swords and lances in close quarters. Pegasi are fragile creatures, so it is best not to send them against heavily entrenched or armoured infantry. Also, like all aerial units, they are vulnerable to arrows and wind magic."

"Nonsense," a female voice cut the general. "The First and Only have no weaknesses."

We all turned around to look at the newcomer. She was a woman with short, brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Her whole formfitting attire was either grey or black (I guess those must be her regimental colours); grey shirt beneath black chestplate, grey gloves, grey headband, black pants under knee-high grey boots. But what struck me the most was the martial aura around her and the arrogance she radiated. I know that kind of officer, the kind that drills you until you drop dead. Ugh. That brings back bad memories of when I was a new recruit.

"Ah, Seraph Knight Tanith, this is General Ike and his advisors." General Zelgius did the introductions while Tanith and Ike shared a brief handshake.

"Please call me Commander Tanith. Seraph Knight is more of a ceremonial title than anything."

"Ok, Commander Tanith. So you'll be traveling with us to Daein?"

"Indeed General Ike. The Empress has high expectations about this expedition, so the First and Only have been assigned to accompany you to ensure that you will meet them."

"In addition to a whole Begnion army. Do you have any further questions about the troops, General?"

"…I think I'm fine for now. I'll call you two if I have any questions in the future." Heh, Ike's always been bad at taking in large amounts of information at a time.

"Very well. Shall I give the order to lift camp?"

"Yes."

Hell yeah. We are Oscar Mike, everyone!

* * *

And we're walking again. Bloody hell.

It's been a whole three weeks now since we left the Begnion capital. Even by marching more than 8 hours a day, we only crossed the Begnion-Daein border yesterday afternoon.

But now, we were in enemy territory. Silver and Pegasus knights constantly patrolled the area. The troops marched in much tighter formations, ready to form a shield wall facing any direction. Riders spent most of their time on their horses instead of marching besides them. The faster Myrmidons were dispatched as vanguards, screening the main army's advance. We were ready for…

Ouch. Something just whipped me behind the head. Hard.

"Oh dear! I am very, very sorry!"

It turns out that the culprit was Astrid, the young silver knight who ran away from home. Apparently her bow string snapped when she was testing it. Eh, it happens to me all the time. Teach never really told me how to actually take care of a bow. He barely taught me how to shoot one. Damn that guy.

"It's ok." I passed my hand behind my head to check for bleeding. Nothing. "No blood, no problem. Having troubles with your bow?"

"Yes. I have been too negligent during the last week about my bow string. I'll have to replace it tonight…"

"So," I said after a few moments of silence, "How are you holding up? I guess it must be hard to go from noble to mere mercenary."

"It's been better than I expected. Strain-wise, it's not that much different than when I was in the Begnion army, but you and the other mercenaries have been much nicer to me than the soldiers of my brigade."

"Why? Were you the only girl?"

"No, there are many women who serve in the silver knights. It was mostly because I was a noble by birth. As you might already know, silver knights usually come from the great plains of western Begnion. The people of this area are mostly nomads, meaning that they do not produce valuable merchandise such as cereals or rare metals. Furthermore, the Begnion Lords have imposed a series of heavy taxes on what little products they do sell. The result is that the whole region is extremely poor. Military service is often the only way, short of prostitution and illicit activities, for many young men and women from the plains to earn the money necessary for their tribe's survival. We nobles, as rich as we are, are not very liked by the plains nomads, and they made it very apparent."

"I see. It must have been hard." The rich bullying the poor has always been one of the constants of human society. We're terrible on that aspect as far as species go.

"It was. The Greil Mercenaries, however, have been very kind to me. For that, I am very grateful."

"Heh, we don't judge. If you fight with us, you're one of ours. We're happy like that. I had a friend that always said: 'The poorer the man, the simpler he is. The simpler the man, the nicer he is. The nicer the man, the poorer he is.' No offense to your fellow nobles Lady Astrid, but I have yet to meet anyone that proved my buddy's words wrong."

"It is true, for the most part. Many nobles…"

"Ghost!" Welp, its Commander Ike. I guess it's finally time for some action, eh? "I need you in the strategy tent, now. We've made contact with the enemy."

"Well, I guess we'll have to continue this discussion another day, Lady Astrid."

"It seems so. I'll have to get a new bow from the merchants if we are to fight soon. Goodbye."

"See you." I turned towards Ike. "Right behind you, Commander."

* * *

"The enemy has deployed in the Tor Galen mountain pass," explained Zelgius. "Scout reports put the size of the enemy force at about seven thousand men, which include archers, cavalry, mages and dragon knights. Our spies tell us that it is a hurriedly raised army, formed of relatively untrained fresh but inexperienced troops. They have taken position in a tactically ideal position for a defensive battle. The pass is located on the top of a slope, meaning that it will be tiring for our troops to charge them. Their infantry line spans the whole width of the pass, with both flanks anchored by steep cliffs. Their cavalry and air units are positioned behind the infantry as reserves. This will not be easy."

"Isn't there a way to go around their positions?" Indeed, Titania. No point in fighting another Thermopylae if we can avoid it.

"Taking another route would mean at least another two weeks of marching. That would most likely give Daein the time to muster its full army. It would be best for us to strike as fast as we can, preferably tomorrow morning, to catch their forces while they're still relatively unorganized."

So they've caught us in a perfect chokepoint, and have the higher ground? That sounded familiar… I thought back to one of my military history lessons. The teacher was droning about a battle fought in conditions very similar to the one we were about to fight. I wasn't the best of students back then, but I remember paying attention that day since the battle was one especially important for us Brits. I recalled the maps, the arrows indicating troop movements, and my teachers comments on what had been done right and what had been done wrong.

"Ladies and gentleman." Everyone turned to me. "I think I've got a plan."

* * *

The first horn sounded at the break of dawn. Our forces were ready. Theirs were too. The Daeins could do little more than watch as our army formed up and marched towards them. Archers in the front, other infantry behind, cavalry on the flanks, just like the general taught us.

Once in range of the opponent's main infantry line, the bowmen drew their bows and started unleashing volley upon volley of serrated arrows upon the enemy. Most arrows bounced off harmlessly on the opponent's shields, but a few got through. Killing was not the purpose of the barrage however; it was simply to keep the Daein infantry in place. It's hard to manoeuvre when you had hell raining upon you. The enemy archers soon replied with their own barrages, although theirs was smaller. That meant that either we had more archers or that they weren't willing to commit all their ranged units to the battle just yet. The Daein arrows showered upon the advancing spearmen. The red tide was not phased and kept advancing inexorably.

In a chorus of roars, the enemy air force took the air. A large cloud of what must be around three hundred dragon knights emerged from behind the enemy ranks, spears and axes at the ready. Although they were outnumbered at least three to one, the First and Only flew up to meet them. The swarm of mailed dragon warriors and the flock of white Holy Guard collided in the sky between the two armies. Very quickly, the battle turned into a bloody massacre. But not the way one would expect. The battle-hardened Falcoknights smashed into the Daein mass and mercilessly tore it apart. The Pegasus knights darted between their lumbering opponents, throwing javelins with deadly precision, aiming for the ferocious mounts instead of their rider. Very soon, dead dragons started falling from the sky, dragging down their doomed masters with them. It looks like the First and Only's fearsome reputation was well deserved.

The first engagement was ours. With a loud cheer, the infantry continued their advance with increased vigour.

But the Daeins weren't about to go down without a good fight. As their opponents came closer and closer, their infantry lowered their shields and started hurling javelins. Mages in both sides entered the fray; Daein mages threw spell after spell at the Begnion soldiers, while their counterparts took out their staves in order to minimize losses. Losses that were starting to become dangerously high. Realizing that, General Zelgius gestured to his assistant, who sounded two short bursts with his horn. The Begnion infantry lowered their spears and charged towards their opponents, who drew their swords in preparation for the clash.

And what a clash. The Begnion heavy infantry collided with the Daein center and left in a deafening crash. The many spears of the Begnion shield wall smashed against the Daein ranks, piercing their wooden shields and instantly skewering the first row of soldiers. The second row lunged forward between the spears that had impaled their comrades in an effort to get into stabbing range, only to be met by even more spearheads. The spear and its longer range were showing their superiority over the lighter and smaller sword. The Daein infantry were getting minced. Their commander, seeing the massacre, pulled out his sword infantry and sent in dismounted knights, elite soldiers encased in heavy plate armour, similar to the ones Boyd and I had faced at Gebal castle. Their spears and poleaxes were the equals of the Begnion spears, but their heavy armour gave them much more staying power. Slowly, our advance was grinded down to a halt. Both sides were equally matched. For now.

During that time, on our left flank, the silver knights galloped up the hillside before stopping just out of range of the Daein javelins, where they let loose a hail of arrows before retreating down the slope. As there was no reaction on the Daein side, the nomads rode up again. And then again. For all morning, the silver knights harassed the enemy line while the infantry clashed with each other. Neither side made any significant progress.

That would change. General Zelgius ordered the gold knights to advance. The heavy mailed horsemen, poleaxes raised, formed a deep column as they rode forward, before making a thunderous charge against the Daein right flank. The gold knights crashed into the Daein line like a giant mailed fist. The enemy infantry line was distorted and bent back, but held firm. Once in the fray, the knights drew their broadswords and began hacking away. The Daein infantry swarmed in and began surrounding the horsemen. After a long struggle, the gold knights turned tail and galloped away from the enemy positions. Seeing this, the Daein infantry roared in triumph, and started pursuing the fleeing knights. A grave mistake. The enemy's inexperience and indiscipline was showing. Seizing the moment, the gold knights turned around and charged again. This time however, they did not face a dense and deep formation of foot soldiers capable of absorbing their blows. The small pockets of infantry were quickly scattered and trampled to death.

In a few minutes, the Daein right flank had entirely disintegrated, and the gold knights were pouring through the gap in the opponent's main line. The Daein response was quick and brutal: their own cavalry counter-charged their Begnion homologues, while their mages bombarded the intruders with deadly spells. The Begnion horses buckled under the sheer power of the onslaught. Cavalry was not meant to be bogged down in static combat, and our horsemen needed to be reinforced quickly. It was own turn to shine.

The Greil Mercenaries and a full contingent of swordsmen rushed into the gap that the gold knights had created, while the cavalry pulled back. Ike led the assault, grabbing the lance of a Daein knight before pulling him to the ground, where he was cut apart by Mia. Boyd was less subtle; he wildly swung his axe in large motions around him, aiming for not the knights themselves but their mounts. The injured horses neighed in pain before collapsing, leaving their riders vulnerable to the other foot soldiers of the mercenary company. Titania and Oscar were busy duelling with what little horsemen that had managed to stay on their horses and were winning handily (Titania, at least). Rolf and I were shooting projectile after projectile, prioritizing enemy healers and javelin throwers, while the mages were busy keeping us all alive.

The attack was going well. The enemy cavalry, their only remaining fresh reserve, was bogged by our mass of light infantry. Suddenly, as I was notching what must have been my twentieth arrow, it occurred to me that we should've been under fire from the enemy mages, which we were not (I'm not complaining though, I can easily do without a spell barrage, really). I would learn later that the enemy mage units had already been decimated by our marksmen, who had used their great range to fire at soft targets behind the enemy main formation. Soon, the Daein cavalry lied bleeding or dead on the field, allowing us to slowly envelop the Daein main line and our cavalry to ravage the enemy's backline. Simultaneously, sentinels and halberdiers, who were still fresh, pressed the battered foot knights and pushed them back. Slowly but surely, we were pinning the entire Daein army against the cliffs that bordered the Tor Galen pass.

The Daein commander deployed the very last troops he had that weren't engaged: the sword infantry that had been withdrawn from the front line earlier. These tired men offered only a token resistance before crumbling. The Daein situation was hopeless. Their cavalry was annihilated. Their archers and crossbowmen had been swept by a tide of Begnion knights. Their mages had been shot to pieces. Their only remaining fighting force, the infantry, was exhausted and demoralized. To add insult to injury, the Holy Guard had finished destroying what was left of the dragonknights and were now swooping in to join in the massacre.

The day was ours. I love that feeling.

* * *

The Daeins were brave, I'll give them that. Although outmatched, each soldier fought to death. Not a single one tried to surrender or flee the battlefield. They stuck together until the end.

Now that the battle was won, it was now time for looting. Unsurprisingly, the rank-and-file Daein soldier had little of value, so most of the decent loot came from the corpses of the officers or nobles. Ironically, we mercenaries (both us and the Myrmidons) took very little from the dead; most of us only picked up spare weapons. It was the Begnion soldiers who squabbled over all what little trinkets they could find.

As I filled my quiver from bolts gathered from the former Daein crossbowmen, I couldn't help but to feel a bit sick. More than seven thousand rotting bodies did not smell good, especially with the sunny weather kick-starting the decomposition process. That was something SAS training had not prepared me for, since, in 21st century warfare, bodies weren't usually left to decay out in the open. It reminded me of a song I used to listen to back home…

_They are all dead, there's blood everywhere,_

_The Norsemen, they left only death and despair,_

_A stench of flesh that fills the autumn air…_

(**Author's Note:** I wonder if anyone will recognize the song… No Googling allowed.)

Ok, we're not exactly Norsemen, but the point still stands. I took out my balaclava from my pocket and pressed it on my nose in an effort to block out the smell. I salvaged three last bolts from the quiver of a dead soldier before sliding them into mine. Now that both of my quivers were fully replenished, I can finally leave this goddamn crematory field.

"Sniff…"

Rolf was crying. I can't blame him. He's way too young to be embroiled in a terrible war like this. I walked over to the poor kid and put my hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to comfort him. But what I saw made me want to cry too.

The body had been trampled under so many horse hooves that it was little more than a vaguely human-shaped bloody mess. His right hand clenched a broken bow and in the left was a small dagger, drawn in a desperate attempt to fend off against the Begnion horsemen. The arrows in his quiver had fallen out when he was struck down and were scattered around his body. But that was not what struck me. What my eyes were fixed on was the person's hair.

Long red hair that flowed to the middle of the back, arranged into a long ponytail held by a green string.

Shinon?

"Un… Uncle… Why?"

Yes, Teach. Why? Why did you end up siding with Daein, even though you knew that they were our enemies? Why did you choose to stay and fight us? You're one of the smartest bastards I have ever met. You could've easily slipped away any time you wanted. Damn it, Teach. You weren't that bad of a guy. Even though I know that you would rather have your teeth pulled out with forceps than to say it out loud, you cared deeply for every single one of us. Heck, you taught me and Rolf archery on your own free will, even though you could have refused both times. You didn't belong with those Daein bastards. How did it come to this?

I clenched my fists. Why does this always happen to me? Why do I always have to be the one that lives when everyone else dies? Mother, father, Tommy, Royce, Ozone, Roach…

By now, I could feel the tears flowing down my cheeks.

Why am I always the one that has to bury the dead? Why can't I be the one to die for once? WHY?

Rolf and I stood there, immobile, silently weeping our deceased mentor. Little by little, the rest of the mercenaries joined us. Gone was the euphoria of victory. We had lost one of ours again. It was the third time in this bloody war.

We refused to burn Shinon's body like those of the other Daein infantry. Instead, we buried him with his broken bow and a full quiver in a small grave on the side of the pass that we marked with a tombstone. After that, having done all that we could, we picked up our belongings and equipment and rejoined the rest of the army. We had a war to win.

_Here lies Shinon of the Greil Mercenaries._

_Expert at all he put his hand to, dependable comrade, and beloved teacher._

_May Ashera guide his soul in the afterlife._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Summer vacation is here (winter semesters in my university ends in the end of April)! I'm freeeeeee! Hopefully that means that I can now write at a higher rate than one sentence per day. To all of you that aren't in university (college?) yet, enjoy your free time. University can be hell when you're in a decently hard program, especially in the later years.

I always found it weird from a realism perspective that the mercenaries never really fought with the Begnion army (it does makes sense in a gameplay perspective though). The common rank-and-file soldiers (and by extension, Zelgius) deserve some spotlight, damn it! So I tried to make some sense with all the different classes and arrange them into a disciplined army instead of the massive blobs of units you see in the Radiant Dawn movies. I gave the Begnion army a slight Macedonian feel (as in, Alexander-the-Great-era-Macedonia) and the Daeins a slight Roman feel, mostly because I've been playing a lot Rome: Total War recently (it's an amazing game, a real classic IMO). I know the Greeks didn't do very well against the Romans in real life (although King Phyrrus of Epirus did ok), but the Greeks didn't have Pegasus Knights (or regular knights, for that matter) or longbowmen or mages or… And I felt giving a bit more depth to the Begnion army instead of the bunch-of-guys-in-the-background role they had in the games.

I have no idea if the Royal Military Academy of Sandhurst actually has an "Ancient and Medieval Warfare" course or not.

Have fun trying to guess which famous battle Ghost used as inspiration. I'm sure that at least most British people have heard of it in their history classes.

If you're interested in pre-gunpowder warfare, I strongly suggest watching stuff with Mike Loades, a British combat historian who specialises in real medieval combat (as in, he can ride horses, spar with a lance/sword/axe/whatever, shoot bows, throw axes, etc.). I got a lot of information from watching his shows (_Time Commander_, _Weapons that made Britain_) that are all on Youtube. I don't know about the quality of the information he gives, but he's god drat entertaining.

As always, please review! Even if it is to say that I suck as a writer.


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